


Trauma and Punishment

by badassbutterfly1987



Category: The Dresden Files - Jim Butcher
Genre: Blow Jobs, Comfort Sex, Dubious Consent, Guilt, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Past Abuse, Trauma, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, attempted self-harm, raith is mostly awful but does 1 (one) decent thing, thomas is a mess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:48:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27226804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badassbutterfly1987/pseuds/badassbutterfly1987
Summary: His father always said they were monsters; it takes the Naagloshi for Thomas to learn that.Perhaps it’s ironic that he goes to his father then. Or perhaps it makes perfect sense.
Relationships: thomas raith/lord raith
Kudos: 2





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place about a month after the events of Turn Coat.
> 
> Thomas is in a bad place right now.
> 
> Might be a little OOC but I think recent events justify it.

Thomas didn’t know what his father knew. Had Lara told him what happened? “ _Hey, Dad. Thomas raped and murdered multiple innocent women, was technically a victim himself, and no one wants to talk about it. Try not to trigger his new trauma, have a nice day!”_

Lord Raith had always said they were monsters and that they should embrace that reality; what was the point of rejecting the inevitable? It took a skinwalker for Thomas to learn that lesson.

Ironic then that he was going to his father now; or perhaps it made perfect sense.

Thomas found his father in the study reading a book. It took a few moments for his presence to be noticed. His father grown more reserved and quiet; Lara had to be certain he was a nonthreat. When Lord Raith realized he was there, he slipped a piece of paper between the pages and placed the book on the table in front of him before standing up. Thomas gripped his father’s wrist and pulled him away from the settee. Lord Raith didn’t jerk back, even if he seemed reluctant. It was bizarre seeing their positions reversed. They reached a guest bedroom in silence.

He turned his back to his father before he undressed. Showing his back meant he wasn’t afraid of what his father could do to him. A petty action but it brought a small sense of satisfaction. When he turned back his father was already reclining against the headboard. They had done this before, back when his father had complete control over his children. It had felt degrading, being forced to be an active participant in his own abuse. But that didn’t matter right now.

Thomas took in the head of his father's cock with ease. When he took in a bit more he made sure not to let his teeth scrape. Even though he wasn’t focused on his father’s pleasure, he had no interest in causing unnecessary pain. He pulled back just enough to flick his tongue over the slit and made note of the low groan that caused. His father was difficult to fully take in but Thomas had had lots of practice. He eventually reached the base. He bobbed up and down the cock, coating it in his saliva. He could drain him dry, Thomas thought distantly, but that would rob the family of their figurehead and Lara wouldn’t approve. He made sure to stop before his father could reach his climax.

Thomas fully climbed onto Lord Raith’s lap and briefly grinded their cocks together. He sat up and positioned his unprepared back entrance over his father’s cock. He expected it would hurt but that was the purpose.

“Thomas, wait.” His father sounded uneasy now but Thomas disregarded it.

This was what he needed, what he deserved. Just as he was about to lower himself down onto his father’s cock, he was pulled off and flipped over roughly.

His father was on top of him and there was a hand at his throat and he _couldn’t **breathe**_ —

And just as suddenly he was free. Thomas quickly crawled to the end of the bed, wanting as much distance between them as possible. He took big gasping breaths as if there wasn’t enough air in his lungs. He was okay, he was fine. His father hadn’t hurt him.

Lord Raith had gone back to reclining against the headboard, acting as if his son wasn’t on the verge of a panic attack. Some things hadn’t changed.

“I’m not going to take you dry, Thomas.”

 _Now_ he cared about his son’s well-being!? As if he hadn’t spent the last couple decades hurting Thomas and centuries more doing the same to his other children. The one time Thomas wanted to be hurt and his father decided to be considerate.

“Lara would not respond well to that.” Of course. Of course that was his father’s reasoning, it was always something self-centered.

“Lara doesn’t have to know,” Thomas snapped back.

“You think your sister won’t notice when you have severe internal tearing,” Lord Raith said flatly. “If you want to experience that kind of pain then look elsewhere.”

Thomas’ emotions boiled over and he snapped back “I thought you were obligated to satisfy us.”

Lord Raith didn’t reply to that. Instead, he let it hang in the air until the implications crawled under Thomas’ skin. That was never a phrase he used, but he had heard it from his father often.

Lord Raith had taken pleasure from his children and called it an ‘obligation to satisfy their lord’. He no longer had the power to do so, which meant his children could do the same to him. Thomas could take what he wanted and his father wouldn’t be able to stop him. What would that make him if he did that? What did that make him when he had considered it?

That was what Thomas tried to hide from the others. Whenever he and Harry argued there was always a moment where he knew exactly which words would hurt the most. Just like whenever he thought about McCoy, he considered the best way to break the bond between Harry and his mentor.

Suffering at his father’s hands had not made Thomas kind. He could be manipulative and vicious and unforgiving. It had made him bitter and cold and self-loathing. It made him want to lash out at those around him. He had sharp edges that the others wouldn’t want to see. Thomas wanted to be kind and good but it took more effort than he could always give. And his father always brought out the worst in him. 

Thomas curled into himself. He had thought that this would make things better but instead he just felt sick to his stomach.

“I need to know what happened a month ago.”

“I,” Thomas faltered. He didn’t want to talk about what the skinwalker had done to him but his father didn’t like being ignored. “I don’t remember everything that happened. The moments blur together. I remember my skin being cut off. When I was too starved to heal, I would be given a woman to feed on. I don’t know how many.”

Thomas was starting to shake. He could remember the pain, the hunger, and then the horrifying realization of what he had done. Then there was what he had almost done to Molly, but his father didn't need to know about that.

“You were forced to embrace the parts of your nature you hated the most. Now you believe you are deserving of punishment.”

Thomas can only nod shakily at that. He didn’t deserve anything else.

“Your wizard has done a poor job of fixing you.” His father’s tone wasn’t cruel as expected, he just sounded… weary.

I’m not broken, Thomas wanted to say, but that would be a lie. He was broken. Thomas had nearly broke from years under his father but had started picking up the pieces. Then he was tortured, starved, and forced to cross the one line he’d sworn never to. He had raped multiple innocent women to death. How could he be anything less than a monster?

Lord Raith was quiet while Thomas sat at the other end of the bed trying not to have an emotional breakdown.

“Come here, Thomas.”

He didn’t move. He only shook his head when the command came again. If he moved, then his father would expect more from him and he couldn’t do that without breaking.

Thomas flinched when his father dragged him forward but didn’t fight it. He had been conditioned too well to use his full strength against Lord Raith. He went still when his father wrapped his arms around him. Then they were just laying there. Thomas didn’t understand any of it. He had expected to be hurt, to be used but the arms holding him weren’t even that constraining.

“It’s not your fault,” his father murmured against his hair.

That was what made him break. Just four little words repeated over and over again. It was a lie, of course. All of it was a lie. It didn’t stop him from curling further into his father’s side.

His father would use this against him later but that didn’t matter in this moment. A comforting lie, even one coated in manipulation, was soothing. It would be enough for now.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas is still a mess. Lord Raith decides to offer some measure of comfort.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't fully happy with the fic so I added this.
> 
> And I added comfort sex.

Comfort had never come naturally to him. Yet here he was, holding his trembling son in his arms. He suspected Lara wouldn’t like this, especially if she knew what Thomas had almost used him to do to himself. She was viciously protective of her younger brother and he knew her capacity for cruelty. He had made her that way after all. Yet here he was, gently running his hands through his son’s hair in a manner more fitting of mortal parents.

Raith didn’t love his son. There was no love left in him if there had ever been any. But he did feel a certain amount of pride in Thomas. What had seemed like a reckless fool, had instead been a cunning boy who had kept his façade in place for most of life. Even more than that, he had done what Raith had always believed was impossible for their kind: he had found love, been loved in return, and hadn’t been broken by it. Thomas had defied a thousand years of tradition and had not only survived but _thrived_. All of this within his first half-century of life. He had earned his position in the White Court and had the potential to one day rule himself.

And that _thing_ had broken him.

The White Court was inherently manipulative and stabbed each other in the back regularly. Raith had arranged the deaths of all his previous sons and bound the minds of his daughters to him. Despite this, they protected and avenged each other when it came to attacks from outsiders. To hurt the Prince of the White Court, to hurt _his son_ , in such a way was a grave insult that demanded vengeance. Yet the remaining White Court not only lacked the ability to find but the power to kill it as well.

Raith himself had done cruel things to Thomas but always with the intended purpose of teaching him a lesson or punishing a transgression. The Naagloshi had hurt him for what purpose? Its own pleasure? To hurt Dresden? It mattered not. All that mattered was that Thomas hadn’t deserved it, even by Raith’s rather loose definition of the idea.

“I deserve to be hurt for what I did. I thought you would help for once.”

_Empty Night_ , why were they still discussing this?

“I’m not going to hurt you just because you wrongly think it is a just punishment,” Raith said with the limited patience he had left.

Thomas pulled back then and snapped, “I didn’t deserve being hurt before but now that I do, you decide I don’t. How does that make sense?!”

Thomas’ increased self-loathing was becoming a problem and Raith had no desire to see all that potential wasted because his son wanted to harm himself.

“All right. Roll over.”

Thomas looked surprised at the sudden change but obeyed. He did at least still now when to submit. As gratifying as that was, tonight wasn’t about power. Raith had a different lesson in mind.

He rummaged through the bedside desk drawer until he found the bottle of lube.

“I think that’s kinda missing the point of this,” Thomas said in an annoyed tone.

“We do this my way or not at all. Now be quiet.”

Thomas shut his mouth. It was the smartest thing he had done so far.

Raith had always thought Thomas was too soft and needed to embrace his nature more but now his idiot son was taking it too far in the other direction. He needed to be guided back to a middle path. He supposed it was his obligation as a father to do what the foolish wizard could not.

He liberally spread the liquid across his fingers. He noted the way Thomas tensed when he moved closer but still spread his legs open. This part was familiar, the way Thomas acted as if he didn’t yearn for it but gave in so easily.

But maybe he never had wanted it.

When Raith noticed his son had closed his eyes he tightly gripped his chin.

“Open your eyes. I want you to see what I do to you,” he said coldly.

Pain and pleasure, just like cruelty and kindness, were bound together but each came with its own purpose.

When his son obeyed his command, he released his grip. Raith lightly ran his fingers from Thomas’ chest down to his stomach. His form was lean, but their was firm muscle underneath. When he reached down lower, he heard Thomas’ breathing increase. Raith would usually find little satisfaction in this if it weren’t for his White Court nature. He was thoroughly familiar with what Thomas found pleasure in and let his Hunger guide him.

Thomas made a little whimpering noise when his father ran his thumb over the slit. He put pressure against the underside of his son’s cock as he stroked it, just the way he like. Raith took a break from that to drag his nails down Thomas’ side, leaving a trail of red marks. The sound his son made in response brought its own satisfaction. Pleasure with an undercurrent of pain, just what his son needed.

He returned his attention to Thomas’ member and played with it until he came. Now that Thomas was relaxed, he moved his hand to his entrance. There was a sharp intake of breath but nothing else when Raith pushed in two fingers, even when he curled his fingers to spread him open. Thomas made a little hissing noise when he pushed in three but otherwise made no sign that he wanted it to stop.

More preparation would usually be warranted but Thomas had made it noticeably clear he didn’t want soft and loving. So, after pulling out his fingers, he pushed his cock in. Thomas flinched but otherwise held still. Raith pushed in slowly but without stopping. When he was fully inside, he pulled back until only the tip was in. Then he pushed in again.

Going by the sounds his son was making, it was still a little too underprepared but he had made sure there would be no tearing. It seemed a reasonable middle ground between “fuck me dry to satisfy my newly masochistic martyr complex” and “gentle and loving.”

It was when Thomas’ gasps of pain had partly changed into moans of pleasure that he knew he had reached the right balance. He gripped Thomas’ hips tightly enough to leave bruises and made sure to hit his prostrate every time. Pain and cruelty mingled with pleasure and kindness.

His Hunger desired more than it was getting. It was tearing at the walls Margaret had forced onto him. it wanted to take and take and take until there was no life left in Thomas. Even if Raith lacked the self-control to hold back, it would be a pointless attempt. It couldn’t feed and would continue to starve until it finally killed him.

Raith pushed in until he could go no farther. In turn, Thomas wrapped legs around his father’s hips to draw him in deeper.

Feeding always had a certain intimacy attached. The Hunger enabled their kind to see what their prey desired most and how to use that to take their very life away. It also allowed them to see the target as they truly were, all the parts hidden and buried. It was not so different from a wizard’s soul gaze.

It was here that Raith could see the real version of Thomas. He felt that pain and guilt and self-loathing that had been buried before the Naagloshi had dragged it to the surface. The fear and paranoia that could only have come from his upbringing. Raith saw a ruthless edge and a feral hunger for everything the world had to offer buried under self-control. It was eerily familiar. Perhaps he had more of his father in him than he thought. That wasn’t the only things he saw. He was clever and held a determined desire to be _good_. He always had been Margaret’s son.

Thomas wasn’t broken. The cracks were deep but it was still Thomas. He would never go back to the way he was, but he could heal. People (even monsters) were like bones; they could heal stronger after breaking.

When Thomas tightened around him with a cry, Raith reached his own climax. He stayed there for a few seconds just to feel the way his son trembled around him before pulling out.

There was a long silence between them. Whatever _this_ was, it was new and neither were sure about the next step. As tempting as it was to get dressed and leave like so many times before, it wasn’t what his child needed. So he stayed and when Thomas curled further into his chest, he just wrapped his arms around him. This would enough for tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lord Raith is still an awful person and could easily be interpreted as a sociopath, but I like the idea that he feels a certain amount of protectiveness for his children even if its mostly possessive and can change very quickly.
> 
> I don't intend to soften his character, just add some complexity.


End file.
